


Losing All We've Ever Known

by orphan_account



Category: Original Work
Genre: Abuse, Bullying, idk - Freeform, runaways - Freeform, what else do i tag this as
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-12
Updated: 2014-05-12
Packaged: 2018-01-24 10:59:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1602755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A boy lives his life with his mother and father in their home, but it's not a happy one. He breaks one night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Losing All We've Ever Known

**Author's Note:**

> This is a story I wrote as my Creative Writing final in a high school class. Reviews and constructive criticism are much appreciated, as this is the second draft and it's eleven at night as I finish it. Thank you all in advance.

One of those nights, after his father had been out drinking, Galen shouted back. It wasn't the best idea he'd ever had; things simply progressed as one of the usual nights like this did. He cringed against the wall, his father shouted and hit him across the face _bruised or just red lines whichever they stung like fire_. Galen fell, and the man kicked him a few times in the ribs _broken or just cracked he couldn't tell_ , then turned to his mother. She cringed as the man of the house shouted at her, too- drunken, sloppy, but still hurtful and intimidating- she ran from the room. Galen scrambled up as his father spat on him and told him to get out.

Later, as his never-quite-healed split lip bled onto his pillow, there were loud thumps from the bedroom beside his, where his parents slept. Every so often they woke him up, and his sleep was uneasy until the small hours of the morning. Then it only felt like a short time before his alarm clock went off, and it was time for school.

He looked in the mirror before he left his room. Swollen lip, bruised face, and the mirror didn't show his two cracked ribs. Maybe he could go to school that day, if he kept his hood up and covered the rest with some concealer.

Galen made it through three of five periods before someone makes a comment. It was just a passing remark, really, one of the cruel jests tossed about a thousand times a day. _Hey, look at country-boy's lip gloss._ It's not really lip gloss- it's the stuff he puts on in the vain hope that his lip will, eventually, heal completely. But they look about the same, and so they poked fun at him for yet another thing that he couldn't control and no one could ever know about.

That night, when his homework was done and he'd shut himself in his room, he logged onto his blog and posted the debate question of the week, something he'd been mulling over himself for some time: Why do you think humans have such an affinity and skill for petty cruelty? It was a bit darker than his usual questions, but he thought that his more philosophical readers would enjoy it. Almost as soon as it's published, the responses began to pop up. Some of the more perceptive people he's garnered a following from knew his schedule by then. Galen interjected himself a few times, but mostly sat back and allowed the discussion to flourish without his help. Quite a few people's thoughts made him smile, if only for a moment, and as more and more began to pour in, he just shut his laptop. He'd check in once more before bed.

Opening his copy of King Lear, he resolved to try and read at least the next act that night. That would be a couple nights of English work he'd already have done if he suddenly had to miss school, and less work to stress over if he didn't.

When he finished the next act, he closed the book and opened his laptop again, scrolling down the list of comments. He deleted the spam, responded to the more intelligent things he read, and smiled again at the thoughtful replies he got- mostly excitement that the mod himself had deigned to talk to them, but some had some real material to them. Several inspired tangential conversations of their own, and Galen eventually had to tear himself away so that he'd be awake enough to catch the bus to school the next morning.

Surprisingly enough, it was almost a week until the next bad night. The scab on his lip flaked off, revealing raw, tight skin beneath it. His ribs only ached after a while if he exerted himself too much running up the stairs at school. Life looked normal, for him, but his life always seemed normal from the outside. Social norms dictated that there was an omega in every pack, and Galen was certainly that person. Either way, he brought his grades back up a letter or so in each class. His teachers gave him long, contemplative looks, but didn't say anything.

And then it came, on a night Galen wasn't careful enough and allowed himself to slip just the tiniest bit. Said something he hadn't meant to, just one of those little things people didn't think about before they said.

The eggshells he was permanently walking on cracked.

In the morning- broken nose, slightly crooked. Black eye. Concealer on both- he'd set the nose last night, but it would ache for a while, his sense of smell would be lessened, and he'd better not get it hit with anything for a month. His mother limped as she made her way around the kitchen, and his father looked smugger than usual. Galen just avoided both their eyes as he ate his eggs and toast, then gathered up his things before dashing out the door to catch the bus. He couldn't miss today, given the four tests he'd have to make up if he did, and that would just mean staying late. He couldn't afford to do that.

And he'd completely forgotten about the college counseling appointments for the juniors that day, to top it off. He missed half of one of the tests anyway, then had to dash to get there on time. He flashed his pass at anyone who looked at him strangely as he blew past, then finally skidded to a halt at the woman's door.

He knocked timidly, then came in when she called him to. He liked her almost immediately- her voice was warm and her office matched it, all bright wood and picture frames of her and who presumably was her husband. It was quite nice, and Galen was almost at ease when he sat down in the chair across from her.

She was rather pretty, he noticed vaguely. Gunmetal blue eyes like his, blonde, small nose, pale skin pattered thickly with freckles and light hair on her arms. If she'd looked like this when she was younger, she must've been a knockout.

"You're one of the few people at this school I'm getting mixed readings from." she started. "Your grades are excellent, some of the best in the school- when you attend class. You've got a lot of absences racked up, young man, and if you miss many more you automatically fail each and every one of your classes. I don't think you want to get held back, and I don't think I want to be forced into that. Just wanted to clear that out of the way before we started. This is a college counseling session, not a reason for me to scold you about grades."

Galen breathed out a sigh of relief. He didn't want to answer any probing questions about his life, and no one would really want to hear it, either. "Yes, ma'am. I understand. I have done some research about colleges, and I know I've still got a year and a bit of school left, but I think I've decided what I want to do."

She raised an eyebrow. "I see. Well, do tell me what your plans are. I think that if you're as intelligent as your grades say you should be quite ambitious."

"Well..." Galen blushed a bit and looked down. "It is, a bit, but I think it would be the best for me. I want to study abroad, and I want to major in aerospace engineering. Canada, maybe, or Germany. It'd be a great way to learn about how other people live, and I think being away from home would give me a new perspective on life."

She nodded slowly, thoughtfully. "Yes, I can see you doing that. Your sciences and maths grades are especially stellar. I'll do some research into it, if you'd like, see what colleges would be a good fit for you. Tell me, what clubs are you a member of?"

"Only recycling, ma'am." he admitted, shamefaced. "But I do do some community service on the weekends. Park cleanup, library volunteering, the like."

"Good for you." she said, smiling. "Call me Ms. Card, I feel old when you call me ma'am. I think that if you do some more things next year, find some leadership opportunities, then you'll be able to find quite a good university."

"Thank you very much, ma'- Ms. Card." Galen smiled widely and blushed more. "It means a lot."

"As long as you promise to keep up your attendance." she said playfully. "We can't have you repeating junior year when you know everything you need to, isn't that right? I think you can go now- my next student appears to be hovering at the door. But I want to see you being good and vigilant on those grades, you hear me?"

"Yes, I will." Galen stood, nearly beaming with pride, and opened the door, stepping aside for the other student. "Thanks so much." He walked out with a spring in his step, and for the rest of the school day nothing much bothered him.

That night, after the bus ride home, there was peace. Galen was happy, but careful with showing it, and his mother smiled when she looked at him. His father left them both alone. A good day, all in all.

More so when he booted up his computer. His latest discussion question had gotten over three hundred replies and comments, and many of them were of the quality he liked to see. One, from someone simply named Adrian Snow, complimented another person and the mod for all the research and deep thought poured into the blog. Galen almost glowed when he read the string of comments agreeing with Adrian, and soon had typed out a response expressing his gratitude.

After a bit more internet-surfing, Galen turned away from the computer and pulled out his schoolwork. He probably should get some more of it done before the next morning, and he knew better than to keep putting it off.

The next night was different. He'd been shoved into a wall at school, and although a teacher had rescued him, that hadn't helped his case. He accidentally flinched back from his father's hand that night, and earned a shake by the neck.

Then the man noticed the thin chain and tugged on it. The charm, a twelve-pronged rack of antlers, tinged a little. He tugged harder, grimacing, and the chain snapped. "No son of mine wears jewelry. Where'd you get that, anyway? You get it from a girl, or a boy?"

Galen just avoided his father's leering eyes. "I bought it, sir."

"And I'm just going to believe that? I don't think so." A shove, harder than the one at school, and Galen fell to the floor. "I'm not going to waste my time on you tonight, but tomorrow you'll get it. Get out."

Galen did as told, holding back tears that stung at the corners of his eyes. He'd bought it online, for twenty dollars. An extravagance, but the necklace was something he'd wanted for a long time. Now it was gone.

Something inside him had snapped with it, he thought dully as he leaned against the door. Now he was free to cry as he thought the things he'd been avoiding for so long.

So tears streamed down his face. His shoulders shook, and his mind began to buzz with thoughts as he sunk down to the floor. There'd been nothing he'd wanted more than to run far away from the eggshells, so he'd have no fear of breaking them, so that there'd be no more panic whenever he made a false move.

He was just so tired.

Even with his mother there with him, people like Adrian who told him that he was good and lovely and wonderful and so many other things, they were just words, and sometimes not even that. They couldn't protect him. No one could, except himself. And right now, he's not enough.

He got up and went to the closet where he kept his emergency duffel. It was packed with the sort of things you'd need for an overnight somewhere in someone else's house, but then he needed it to be filled with things he'll need for an extended period of time. He filled it with clothes, tucked all the cash he owns into the bottom pocket, collected his first-aid kit and stuffed it in there too. Slinging it over his shoulder, he looked around.

One last thing he had to do.

Going over to his laptop, the only item of value he hadn't packed yet, he opened a new post tab and began to type. _I'm sorry._ he began. Always a good start. _I'm not the person you probably think I am. My problems are a bit different than most people my age. I'm bullied, yes, but the largest one started around six years ago, when my family almost lost our house..._  
He told the tale in full. The abuse, the worse things his mother had endured, the punishments and the whippings and the bruises that he couldn't possibly show. His niggling feeling that sometimes, somehow, he deserved this, and he shouldn't try to stop it, because that would be unworthy of him. The shame, grief, powerlessness when his mother lost his sister and his father beat her more than ever for failing him.

 _I'm running away._ he types, slowing down after the outpouring of emotions. _Dad's asleep, as is my mother, but I don't think I should go near their bedroom. Because I'll be homeless for a while, my wi-fi will probably be spotty. I'll try to check in as much as possible, though. Thank you for all your unknowing support over the years. It's been great, but now I have to do this. Goodbye._

He posted the wall of text, then shut the computer one last time, tucking it into its case and into the duffel with its charging cord. With them, all the material possessions he needs are on his back.

He left the house through his bedroom window. He didn't leave a note for his parents, no point really. There was nothing he had to say to his father, and his mother would know what he would say. That he loved her, that he'd miss her, but that he didn't regret this.

As he walked down their street, he pushed away the last doubts. He'd be fine. He knew how to survive. So long as he wasn't caught by the police, then he'd be fine. No one at school would miss him. Even that counselor would forget eventually.  
When he turned the corner, he didn't look back.


End file.
